


Jumping

by thecompletebookworm



Series: Rumbelle Showdown 2015 [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle Showdown 2015, Train Hopping, great depression au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 09:05:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3804685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecompletebookworm/pseuds/thecompletebookworm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompts: Westbound, Needles, Holding back  The Great Depression brought hardship and trouble, but at least for Belle French it also brought adventure and freedom, hopping trains in an effort to get by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jumping

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: Westbound, Needles, Holding back
> 
> I took Westbound to mean bound for the west (journeying to the west), which made me think of the Great Depression and the extensive movement west for work. So *coughs uncomfortably* here’s a Great Depression AU. A “Bull” was a term used to refer to the violent guards trying to keep the hobos off the train. Hoovervilles were little communities for hobos often in the woods near the railroad

There had finally been some quiet when it happened.  The last of the people had gone to bed in their cardboard shacks.  The fires had been extinguished.  That baby had finally stopped crying.  There was finally a chance at sleep.  

“GET UP, THEY’RE TRYING TO SNEAK IT OUT EARLY!“  A man shouted and Hooverville was alive once again. 

Belle sat bolt upright, and shook her head slightly, trying to clear it before joining the throng.  She folded her threadbare blanket as tightly as she could before stuffing it into an old chicken feed sack. Belle unwound the length of twine she had around her wrist for safekeeping.  She tied the sack shut and firmly wrapped the remaining twine around her shoulder.  She would need both hands for the jump.

With her few belongings in order, Belle forced herself to start running.  It was still too dark to see anything properly, but Belle could feel the sea of desperate bodies pressing around her.   No one said a word; there was just the steady pound of feet hitting the uneven ground as they raced for a spot on the freight train.  It was moments like this when Belle would have given anything for longer legs.  She gasped, trying to match their strides. 

There hadn’t been a train bound west for a while. 

She heard it now, the faint hiss, growing louder with every step.   The trees were thinning.  Any second, she’d be home free.  Belle could see the locomotive stretched out in front of her, glistening black and trailing a tail of dark smoke, but the crowd was no longer moving. 

Eight Bulls stood between the jumpers and the train.  Their weapons, billy clubs in hand and guns resting on their hip, held the mob back.  

Belle readjusted her hat to make sure every bit of her hair was hidden.  A girl was an easy target and Belle wasn’t going to give the Bulls any advantage. 

“This is private property!”  One of the Bulls yelled.  “You men know you can’t get on this train.  We have orders to shoot anyone who tries to get on this train.” 

“I’d rather be shot that let my son go hungry!” shouted a man near the front, wrapping his arm around the boy next to him.

“This is how I feed my son!”  The Bull shouted back.  “You’re not getting on this train.” 

Time seemed to freeze.  No one near the front dared move, but Belle could hear the pounding of more feet.  It would be too much.  They’d never be able to catch everyone. 

The train let out a shrill whistle, and the crowd surged forward.  The conductor might as well have shouted “All Aboard!”

This wasn’t her first jump by any means, but Belle could feel the little ball of nerves growing in the pit of her stomach.  She hated this part, the decision making.  She had to find an open boxcar.  It was a split second decision that could kill her if she got it wrong. 

The train sped by.  If she wasn’t careful, she’d be left behind.  Belle took a deep breath and leapt.  This was her adventure.  There was a second of pure weightlessness; she felt invincible.  But then Belle felt herself slam into the side of the car; she barely clung to the edge. She tried to ignore the sharp pain on her leg.  She’d be a lot more hurt if she couldn’t figure out a way in. 

Belle breathed a sigh of relief as a hand shot out, offering her help.  She eagerly took it and pulled herself inside. 

  “Thank you.”   Belle studied the face of her rescuer.  He looked older than she was, although that didn’t say much.  Nothing aged a man more than hard living.  He had longer hair, a little unkempt and streaked with silver.

He merely shrugged before letting his attention stray to the other occupant of their car.  He stared for a few seconds before the teenager rolled his eyes. 

“I’m fine, Papa. See.”  The boy turned around slowly, allowing his Papa to reassure himself as if used to this treatment. 

"I worry, Bae." 

Belle edged her way closer to the further edge of the boxcar.  She wasn’t about to break up this family gathering.  Just because she didn’t have one anymore, didn’t mean she couldn’t remember how important one was. 

She sunk to the floor as the adrenaline wore off.  It was definitely not her best jump.  Belle gritted her teeth in pain, glancing at the spot on her leg where she could already see the blood soaking through the fabric.  At least she was in one piece.

“Papa, he’s hurt,” Bae said as if he was trying to distract his father.

Belle shook her head.  She was fine, not desperate enough to ask for help at any rate.  “I can manage.” 

“The man is fine Bae.”

Belle nodded in agreement.  She didn’t care how nice these people seemed; she knew better than to trust everyone hopping the rails.  She didn’t disguise herself as a boy just for the Bulls. 

Belle pulled up the hem of her pants to just above the knee and winced as the fabric stuck to the gash.  She sighed.  It was worse than she had thought.

The boy tilted his head sideways, studying her before whispering something to his father.   The man glanced at her again before approaching cautiously. 

“I have some thread and a needle.  I could stich that up for you.”

Belle nodded, still skeptical. 

“I used to tailor,” He gave her the deprecating smile that she saw too often.  The one that meant: I used to mean something but now I’m nothing.  She hated that smile. “I’m actually good at it, not about to mess up your leg.”  

She might as well let him.  “It’s got to be better than what I can do.” 

The man let out a laugh.  “I’ve seen what you lot call sewing.  Waste of thread is all it is.” 

Belle bit her lip to stop herself from correcting him.  Her mother had attempted to teach her all the necessities of keeping house; Belle had just never bothered to sit still long enough for something as dull as sewing.  It was passable, not the muck she’d seen by some of the others, but men hadn’t needed to know how to sew before the crash. 

He gestured to Bae and the boy brought one of their sacks over.  The man fished through it until he found an old wallet. 

Belle couldn’t stop her eyes widening in curiosity, but there was nothing in there but assorted needles.  He picked up the thinnest one and threaded it. 

“I’m Rum and that’s Bae. We’re from Maine originally.”  He talked as he pushed the needle through her skin to give her something else to think about.  “Headed west for work.” 

Belle scoffed, “That’s what they all say.” 

“Well if people keep saying it, there’s got to be a grain of truth there somewhere.  Where are you from?”

Belle shook her head, “Don’t think it matters now.  I’ve been riding for a while now.  Seen the entire country”

“Really?” Bae interjected excitedly, “Is California green for miles and miles?” 

“Better than here.  You don’t have to worry about the dust storms,” She paused.  She hadn’t talked to anyone genuinely interested in what she was saying for a while now.  “And they have fruit to pick of all colors.  It’s hard work but sometimes if you time it right, you can sneak an orange." 

She relished in his little gasp.

Rum paused in his stitching.  “I thought you said there was no work.” 

“Didn’t say that,” She turning to face him instead of Bae, raising an eyebrow, “Work comes and goes.  It’s just not living. You’re move to keep up with whatever’s ripe. You exist that’s about it.  I’ll take my chances on the rails.  Give me an adventure any day.”  She raised her arm dramatically and mockingly looked off into the distance. 

Belle could see Bae fighting a smile, but Rum looked less amused by her antics. 

“Stay still.  I’m just about done.”

Belle couldn’t help but watch him lick his lips in concentration as he tied a knot at the end of a line of perfect stiches.    

“So, what’s your name?”  Bae asked as he sat down next to her. 

Belle’s mind went blank.  Usually she’d have countless fake names to match her attire, but not today.  She felt more at home with them than she had in a while.  There was no point in holding out on them.   She replied with the truth.  “My name’s Belle.” 


End file.
